


Lipstick Scars

by Noctiluca (noxie)



Category: Velvet Goldmine
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:19:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxie/pseuds/Noctiluca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the bitter and unforgiving end of their relationship, Curt and Brian are still struggling to leave the past behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically an AU that breaks away five years after the Death of Glitter concert, and my version of a happier ending for the boys.

_Here's looking at you kid  
Hard to forget  
Here's looking at you kid  
At least not yet  
Your memory stays  
It lingers ever  
Will fade away never  
\- Roxy Music, 2HB_

Broken glass. He was surrounded by broken glass, millions of pieces, all mirroring the same image. There was no getting away from it. It was everywhere he turned, haunting him. Years and years and years... They had flown by in the blink of an eye. He couldn't remember a single day. All days were the same, lived only in the colorful dreams of a never-ending daze. And now everything that remained was broken glass.

Maybe he should never have come back to London. Brian stood there with hanging arms, staring after the taxi cab as it slowly pulled away. He felt the sudden urge to make the driver stop, get out of here, but he didn't. He just stared after the car until the freezing January air made him shiver.He turned and looked up to the window, feeling his stomach tighten.  
Five years. It had been five years. He'd pushed it all away, tried to ignore it, erase it, wipe it out entirely. He couldn't believe that it was still alive inside of him, hitting him full strength now like an unexpected blow. Slowly Brian Slade turned around and stared over to the other side of the street, memories dancing before his eyes.

White limo. And Curt. Curt.The name alone sent a cold shiver down his spine. He had avoided to think of him in years. Curt, dressed all in black. Staring up to him impatiently while taking a drag on his cigarette. His eyes burning with anger, full of life. Fixed on him standing there, hiding behind the curtain, seeing through him mercilessly. Famous last words, they were still hanging in the air.  
 _"Piss of, then! Go on! Back to your wolves! Your junkie twerps! Your bloody shock treatment! And fuck you too!"_  
A cigarette falling to the ground like a helpless scream... A moment later the limo was gone. And the glass of the window broke as he smashed his fist into it. Broken glass, stained with blood... Broken glass all around. And the world around him had exploded with a blast. Boom!Everything was gone.

Brian exhaled. He hadn't even noticed that he'd held his breath. He'd been a fool, making believe that he was over it, that he'd forgotten. And while he had been out, travelling space, all the beautiful colors had faded away. Now that he'd finally gotten a grip on reality again, everything seemed gray and cold. Somehow he still couldn't understand all that had happened, why it had happened, why it had happened to him - and why it was over in a flash. The only reason why Brian Slade had come back to London was that he had somehow forgotten who he really was. As much as it might hurt, it was the only way. Going back, remembering. Remembering everything. Doing the exact opposite of what he'd been doing for the last five years. It was time to shove away all the broken glass and see what's underneath. If you can take it, sailor.

***

Heathrow Airport, London. And that same old feeling creeping over him as he got off the plane. Curt always felt uneasy in this city. It seemed like the shadows of the past were ever present. After all the years that had passed, he still dreaded to come back here. It was stupid, he'd told himself that countless times. The past was over and gone, no way of getting it back. Not that he wanted to.  
Life always goes on. Music had changed rapidly during the past few years. Glam rock had perverted itself and was nothing but a sad caricature of itself now. Meanwhile, a whole new era had begun. What had once shocked the world was yesterday's news. The revolution had come to an end. And he was the only one still fighting. He smiled bitterly as the band made their way through the passport controls.

"Are you listening? Curt? Curt, this is serious!" Barry, their manager announced. He hadn't even noticed him talking before. "You should think it over, Curt, really. Your last album wasn't such a big hit, in case you haven't noticed. We've got to do something. And playing that song - people would simply go mad!"

He stared at Barry. "No. I fucking told you I'm not gonna play it." He shook his head with disbelief. "Fuck."  
He couldn't believe that after five years and all the songs he'd written since then, everybody still only wanted to hear this one. The only song he refused to play. He'd sworn he'd never perform that song again, never in his life. The mere thought of it spooked him back, made his stomach tighten. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't change it. Everybody thought he hated the song. He didn't hate it. He just couldn't take it. Because it brought back the memories. And he was through with his past. For once and for all.  
Stepping out of the airport, he glanced at the cloudy sky. _Okay, here we are again. Let's get this over with quickly._

***

 _"You have the ability to make people love you, to make you the center of their lives. That would be a wonderful thing, but it's not. It's tragic. Because you yourself aren't able to love. You're just not able to."_

Brian stared at his reflection in the mirror, the vision of Mandy standing behind him in the open door so real he had to turn around to make sure she wasn't there. It had been the last time she'd really talked to him, a few days after he and Curt... after the break-up. He remembered every word she'd said as if it had only been yesterday. She'd looked at him with sad eyes, suitcase in hand.

 _"I wish you... well, Brian. I do."_

He still remembered the sound of her high heels on the parquet as she left, echoing through the empty rooms of an empty house. He'd stared at his reflection for what seemed like hours, just like he did now. He'd just stood there, hands on the wash-basin, looking into his own empty eyes. He didn't cry; he couldn't. He was too empty for tears.  
And now? It was the same old mirror, the same old house. He'd never sold it, not sure why. Simply because he forgot to, probably. He'd sold everything else. There was hardly any furniture in the rooms, just like he'd left it five years ago. It was a sad and empty house. But it was the only link to his past still left.

Brian took a step back and stared at his reflection again. He'd lost some weight. The years of outrageous drug abuse had left their marks. He looked older than he was. But he was still handsome. Quite gorgeous, actually. He wore his hair short again, in his natural color. The clothes... Nothing special, just a pair of blue jeans and a casual shirt. _Not much of a rock star anymore, are we?_  
He certainly wasn't. There was nothing glittery about him now, nothing special. Even the sparkle had left his eyes. People passed him on the streets every day without recognizing him. Maxwell Demon had been laid to rest. And that was a good thing, wasn't it?

***

Curt recognized the hotel room. It was the one with the big armchair. He rolled his eyes when he noticed the flowers on the table. Slowly he crossed the room and took the little card lying beside it. It said: "I promised to come, and I will. It seems like it's been forever! Love, A."  
 _It seems like it's been forever cause it's been forever, you bastard._ Curt absent-mindedly put the card back on the table. He pulled the curtain back and looked down on the busy street. Familiar sight. He'd been in this hotel a couple of times before. They always seemed to give him the same room. Or maybe he just couldn't tell them apart. He'd been in too many hotel rooms in his life. There were nights when he woke up and couldn't even remember which city he was in. It didn't matter anyway. He didn't have a real home, a particular place where he felt like he belonged, a place he missed when he was abroad. He had a couple of houses, but he hadn't lived in any of them for more than three months in a row. That just wasn't his thing. He was constantly on the move, he liked it that way. _Just like a gypsy. Lika a fucked up rock' n' roll gypsy._  
He grinned a little, turned around and looked at the flowers again. Red roses. Typical. Angelo and his romantic Latin lover shit. He knew Curt couldn't have cared less about flowers, but he still kept sending them to him. There were few things they had in common. There'd been a lot of gossip when they'd first gotten together, the tabloids had had a field day, saying it was just a publicity stunt and shit like that. But as time passed, people stopped questioning their affair. Now pictures of them were a familiar sight in any fashionable magazine. No wonder, since Angelo was a fucking supermodel, and everybody's darling. When they'd first met Curt had told him to go to hell. But Angelo was stubborn. He simply didn't give up. He was the only person Curt had ever met who could take an insult with a smile and a shrug. And eventually he thought that there had to be something special about this guy if he could put up with his crap. And there really was something special about him. He made him laugh.  
But as passionate as the affair had been at the beginning, it had become increasingly like a friendship with time. Even sex had become routine. Sometimes he wondered why they even stayed together. Neither of them really had the time for a serious relationship. But it was nice to know that there was someone special somewhere out there. That you weren't completely alone amongst all the strangers you met every day.

Only a few hours more to kill until he had to head down to the theatre for a sound check. It was barely five but already getting dark outside and a bit foggy. He remembered the London fog and the strange, surreal look it gave everything, the streetlights and the lights of the cars down on the street so hazy. Like a Da Vinci painting. The time Curt had spent in London was the closest he'd ever come to feeling at home. But that wasn't because of London but because of... He quickly banished the thought and turned on the TV. Turned it up real loud. He didn't even care what was on. Anything was better than being alone in this city and starting to think.

***

It seemed to Brian that the silence of the empty rooms was out to drown him. He desperately needed to get out, get some air. He grabbed his worn-out leather jacket and left the house. Outside it was freezing, but that felt surprisingly good. It made him feel alive and real. Just what he needed after hours in the empty house, engulfed by memories. It seemed as though the spirits of the people that had once lived there had somehow been preserved. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Either way, he didn't like it. Everywhere he looked, everywhere he turned he seemed to see Curt or Mandy or both. The memories, even the good ones, hurt and were hard to take.

What Brian needed now was to be among people, real people, not ghosts. He strolled down the street and reached the bus stop just in time to fetch a ride downtown. He got off near Piccadilly Circus and felt better already as he mingled with the crowd on the busy streets. Blending in nicely. Slowly he strolled along, letting the masses guide him, he didn't care where to. He passed a record store he remembered and decided to go in for a look around. Half of the names he read on the records were completely unfamiliar.  
Suddenly he stopped. There was a huge Curt Wild poster on the wall. Underneath it, a small rack filled with stacks of Curt's older records. Beside it a big sign: "SALE".  
 _Sale. You too, mate, huh? You too._ He took a deep breath and took a closer look at the poster. A classic shot. He couldn't help but smile a little. It was a picture of Curt on stage. He was on his knees and had that distant look in his piercing eyes, that look that had always sent shivers down his spine. Unlike any other performer he knew, Curt was able to completely lose himself in his songs, his performance. Sometimes it was like he performed the song for himself, as if he didn't even notice there were hundreds of people watching him. He'd always envied him for that. Brian had always been a totally different kind of performer. Every look, every gesture well-planned and aware of its effect.  
 _"You're an actor, not a singer."_ Curt had once said it mockingly, but he'd been right. He'd lived for the performance. Curt had lived for the music.  
Brian shifted uneasily on his feet, wondering if it still was that way. Or had Curt changed too, did he just put on a show now, did he fake it? He grabbed one record to take a closer look at it. When he realized it was the Berlin record Curt had cut with Jack Fairy he put it back immediately. He'd heard it was a classic now. It included Curt's biggest hit, "Gimme Danger".  
For a second a memory flashed before his eyes. Curt on-stage, looking so surreal in the bluish light... the fallen angel of rock. Another glance at the poster, then Brian turned around and hurried out of the store, suddenly angry. With his hands in his pockets he walked on quickly as though scared of being followed. By what? By the poster? By a memory? _Shit. Five years, Brian, and you're still trying to run away from that wanker!_ He hurried away, turned around a corner and leaned against the wall, panting slightly.

 _Okay, calm down. Bloody calm down! You're losing it, mate, you're losing it._ He sighed deeply as he slowly regained his composure. This wasn't even funny anymore. He was really beginning to think that he was starting to crack up. Why did coming back here upset him so? He hadn't been touched by anything for years! He'd believed that he was completely empty and cold. And now, suddenly, all these emotions... It was too much all at once. He needed some peace of mind. He needed... redemption.  
 _Redemption? You've always had a thing for drama, that's for sure..._  
Brian looked up, and froze. His eyes were fixed on the huge poster on the other side of the street.

"Curt Wild - All Day, All Night Tour - 20. January live at the Rainbow Theatre, London."

There was a big red sticker on it, saying:  
"Tonight".


	2. Coincidences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting reveals old feelings - and unfinished business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Curt's singing at the concert are from Iggy Pop's "The Passenger"

_Once I was your everything_  
Once I was the fire in your eyes  
Traces of your kisses stamped onto my memory  
Traces of laughter and tears  
Your lipstick traces still burning my skin  
Once...

 

The Rainbow Theatre. It looked the same, hell, it even smelled the same. Curt strolled in through the front-door and walked through the auditorium, up to the stage. His band was already busy plugging in their instruments and doing the sound check.

"Alright," he said and nodded as he passed by one of his technicians.

The man looked up and smiled. "Hey Curt, how's it feel being back?"

He just shrugged and walked on. _What do you think, you stupid fucker?_ Right now he hated himself for ever having agreed to do another show here. But Barry thought it was a great idea and at the time he'd thought it didn't really matter where they played anyway. All stages looked the same. All audiences looked the same from up there. But now...  
He knew that for his British fans it was a small sensation that he'd agreed to do another show at the Rainbow. And Barry was right, of course. If he performed the song tonight, the crowd would simply go nuts. But frankly, he didn't give a shit.

"There you are!" Barry rushed towards him, grabbing him by the arm in his usual overly dramatic manner. "You okay? Fine! There's a reporter backstage, wants to do a little interview."

Curt gave him a look. "I said no interviews."

Barry raised his hands, all innocence. "Hey man, just doing my job! We'll keep it brief, promise. Now come on, she won't bite."

Curt sighed deeply. Sometimes he wondered what he was paying that asshole for. He never did what he asked him to anyway.

***

Curt was here. Here, in this city. Maybe just a few blocks away. Maybe on the other side of town, but even that was close enough to make Brian nervous. Really fucking nervous. Curt was here tonight.  
He took a deep breath and fumbled for his cigarettes. His fingers trembled a little as he lit a fag and took a long drag. _That's better. Much better._ There was actually no reason to be so bloody excited. Curt was in London - so what? It was just a coincidence, it didn't mean a thing.  
"Curt." He said the name aloud to himself, a slight frown on his handsome face. "Curt..." _See? You can say it. That wasn't so bad._  
Brian couldn't help but smile a little. He didn't even know why he was smiling, maybe it was just... that name. He'd missed the sound of it. After all, they'd had one hell of a time together. A thrill, a bloody roller-coaster-ride, a dance along the edge. It was strange, but to know that Curt was here... somehow it made him feel less lonely.  
"Therapy. Seriously needed. - And kindly stop talking to yourself now, you bleedin' pansy." Brian tried in vain to lose that smile on his face. He bit his lower lip. He felt strangely electrified. Something inside of him had come alive.  
He'd always been so bitter about it all, cursing Curt, cursing Mandy, cursing Jerry... most of all himself. Oh, the self-pity. Sometimes he almost seemed to enjoy the pain and misery, basking in it like it was sunshine. Brian Slade, the tragic hero. Definitely his favorite role in the past years. He'd grown so accustomed to this mask that it was hard to let go. But he had to let go if he wanted to live again, didn't he? It was high time to start looking ahead, to start something new. _But what? What do you want to start? What do you want to do with your life?_  
He had no answers to these questions. All his life he'd only had one goal: To become a rock star. No matter what the cost. But if that was true, why had he let it all slip away so easily?

This concert tonight... What if he went there? Just for a little while... Just for a couple of minutes... Just to see him again. No, that was bollocks. He'd done that once before and it had only made everything worse. He remembered everything like it had only been yesterday. The Rainbow Theatre. It was a strange concert, macabre. Everyone celebrating the death of Glitter. And then the show's peak, like an orgasm, hot, and hard and deliciously painful. Curt's haunting performance of "Gimme Danger". Curt in the bluish light... the fallen angel of rock... or like an angel, falling... He'd never performed the song again. Nobody knew why. But he did.

***

"Curt? Phone call!"

He nodded and made a gesture for the band to cut the music. He followed the man backstage to a telephone in some gray corridor. Ghostly atmosphere with greenish neon light.

"Yeah?"

"Curt? It's me, darling!"

He smiled as he recognized the warm voice with the slight Spanish accent and leaned against the wall. "Angelo, hey. What's up, man? Where are you?"

The connection was bad and that was bad news, because it probably meant... "I'm still in Paris, darling. I'm awfully, awfully sorry, but the show took longer and now my flight won't arrive in time!"

Curt held his breath and closed this eyes. _Oh no, don't let this happen... not tonight._

"Curt, are you there, honey?"

"Of course I'm there! I'm here in London, just like we said five fucking months ago! For fuck's sake!" Curt couldn't believe this. It was so typical. Another one of Angelo's promises broken. He could no longer count how many it had been.

"Curt, please. There's no need to yell at me. I didn't plan this. I meant to come."

"Oh yeah? Fuck you!"

"Really, sweetheart, can we handle this like grown-ups for once? Curt? Curt? You still there? - Mierda!" A frustrated sigh echoed through the empty corridor. The receiver hung down loosely, abandoned.

***

Cold and starry night and everyone was there. Easy to spot them in the audience, beside the stage, faces, faces, faces. And he hadn't even been sure why he'd come in the first place. As Brian had stood in the open door all he could do was stare at the beautiful creature on stage... and to know that a part of him had died.  
Even when their eyes met, when Curt looked right at him he'd known that it was over. But Curt, who had been the one to leave, still wouldn't let him go. He had sung his song to him as if they were alone in this huge crowd, alone in town, alone on earth. It was then that Brian realized he had come only to leave him, to say his good-byes. To have the final word. He always had the final word. _And nobody leaves me._ It was his saddest, the most bitter revenge. One look was enough to see Curt breaking. One look was enough to destroy everything they'd ever had.

 _But does it matter in the end, who leaves whom?_ Brian blinked and stared at the entrance of the Rainbow Theatre. The open door appeared like a huge, dark mouth, swallowing the groups of arriving Wild fans. It wasn't sold out and even the street-hawker in the small side street beside the theatre couldn't get rid of his tour posters. It hurt to see. The golden years were over, even for Curt. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. _Regrets, Brian? You? You of all people? You're feeling guilty? For what?_

Ten minutes to the concert. The unknown band opening for Curt was just bloody awful. The audience obviously hated them too, at least it sounded like they did. These weren't the glitter kids he used to know. Only few wore glitter make-up, most of them looked like street scum of the lowest sort. Brian sighed and stared at the concert ticket in his hand. He couldn't believe he'd actually bought one. And now he couldn't find the courage to go inside.

***

"Curt? Five minutes!"

 _Five minutes. Okay man, be cool now. Relax. It's just a show. Just a fucking show._ Curt stared into the mirror of his dressing room and sighed deeply. It was crazy, but he was nervous. He was fucking scared to go out there tonight. He stepped back and started to pace restlessly. The memories were so alive tonight he could almost smell the past. He'd fought so hard to leave it all behind. It had taken him incredibly long to let go and finally get on with his life. In the end he was almost convinced that breaking up with Brian was the best thing he'd ever done in his goddamned life. He was in control now. It was his band, his music, his tour, he made the decisions. Well, most of the time. But still... Since the night he'd left without looking back, Brian's accusations and insults ringing in his ears there had been something missing in his life. The passion was gone. But what was the use thinking about it now? There was no going back. It didn't even hurt anymore. So why so nervous?  
Fuck, he needed a drink. He hadn't touched alcohol in years, but the sudden need to down a glass of whiskey was almost driving him insane. He thought of Angelo and angrily clenched his fist. _Fuck that bastard. You don't need him. You don't need anyone._  
The anger always helped. He'd done some of his best performances that way. He looked at the mirror. "Why the fuck am I still doing this?" The reflection never replied, it just stared right back at him with dark, hateful eyes. Oh, he knew the answer alright. He was still doing this because being on stage was the only thing that made him feel alive. The power of the music engulfing him, the blinding lights... It was his life.  
Yeah, it was his life. And always had been. There'd been a short time in his life when he'd lost track of that, and it had nearly destroyed him. He'd sworn to himself never to let that happen again. He took a deep breath, pulled himself up to his full height, and walked to the door.

***

The sound of guitars, raw and untamed, powerful. Brian could tell by the crowd's reaction that Curt had entered the stage, even though he was still outside. He got instant goosebumps, cold and hot all at once. He could hear them cheering through the half-open door, even on the other side of the street where he was still standing. He bit his lower lip, trying to imagine how Curt looked tonight, what he wore. But all he saw was Curt on that stage five years ago, his bare, chiseled chest shimmering in the blue lights, tight silver trousers hugging that gorgeous ass of his like a second layer of skin... The black eyeliner intensifying the distant stare of his eyes... He was a living legend that night, more than ever before. Like a creature from another world, almost too beautiful to be for real.  
When Curt began to sing Brian tensed. Closing his eyes he intently listened to the words, to that familiar voice.

"I am the passenger  
And I ride and I ride  
I ride through the city's backside  
I see the stars come out of the sky  
Yeah, they're bright in a hollow sky  
You know it looks so good tonight..."

Brian opened his eyes again and looked up to the sky. Yes, it was beautiful. Cold and starry. Good song.  
He could almost see Curt standing at the microphone, cupping it in his right hand like he always used to do, left hand stuffed in the back pocket of his trousers as he slowly swayed back and forth.

"And everything was made for you and me  
All of it was made for you and me  
'Cause it just belongs to you and me.."

Brian stared at the entrance of the theatre, transfixed. To hear that voice again... It sent the strangest little shivers down his spine. He couldn't stay. He couldn't. But he couldn't walk away either. _And you thought you'd left him..._  
Life's a tragic comedy, he'd learnt that early on. Oh, he'd always known how to manipulate people. He'd manipulated them all, even Mandy, even Curt. But now in the end it looked like Curt had really been the one to secretly draw the strings from the background. It had always been Curt, his only real addiction, too powerful, too mighty, too wild to overcome. Ever since that night he'd first seen him on stage. He'd wanted to _own_ him, more than anything. But you couldn't own Curt Wild. He'd always been the stronger one, even when he was down on his knees. Had he ever known, though? It had taken Brian five years to figure that out. And he doubted that even if Curt had known, he would've given a shit. And that notion made him smile.  
Slowly Brian began to walk. He crossed the street and strolled into the small side street beside the Rainbow Theatre. He sat down on the steps of an ugly decaying brick building and lit a fag, staring at the theatre's smudgy backdoor and listening to the hollow thunder of music coming from the stage hidden behind it.

***

The crowd called out for more. Curt's ears were ringing from the noise. After over one and a half hours Curt's entire body was covered in sweat and he was so exhausted he could barely walk straight as he left the stage. Just like in his wildest days. Just like when he used to give everything. Tonight he had. He'd been good. He'd been fucking great. He remembered a time when he'd always wished he could go on singing and playing for a couple of hours more. Longing for a few more kicks like the ones you got when they were screaming your name at the top of their lungs... hands reaching out desperately, yearning to touch their idol. No fucking dope could ever compare. But being high and being on stage combined... Man.  
But tonight was different. He left the stage glad that it was over. During the whole performance he'd been struggling with an invisible opponent, leaning there in the open door, staring blankly at him each time he dared to close his eyes.  
Curt grabbed the towel someone handed him and rubbed his chest and face dry as if trying to wipe away the past. He only relaxed when his dressing room door was closed tightly behind him, and he leaned his head against the cool wood.

"Surprise!"

He jumped at the sound of a voice out of nowhere. Angelo was standing opposite of him, smiling broadly, his face beaming, arms wide open.

"Hello, lover! What do you say now? I made it! I was a little late, like an hour or so, but hey, I made it!"

Curt just stared at him, his heart racing. "You trying to fucking kill me, man?"

Angelo laughed, his eyes shining warmly. "Sorry, luv, didn't mean to startle you like that!"

"Don't do that again."

"I won't, promise."

"No more promises, alright?"

"You're still mad at me, aren't you? How can I make it up to you?" Angelo crossed the distance between them and raised his hand to gently stroke Curt's cheek. The singer didn't pull back, just looked at him. The other cupped his face with his hands and kissed him, and finally Curt relaxed and pulled him close. When they parted Angelo looked at him for a long moment. "What's wrong?"

Curt walked over to a chair, and sunk down on it exhaustedly. He shook his head. "I dunno. It's just... this place. Forget it, it's nothing."

Angelo pulled up a chair and sat down opposite of him, a concerned look on his face."Shit. I'd forgotten, Curt. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I was late."

Curt smiled vaguely. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply. "I'm glad it's over."

He'd only just said it when the door opened and Barry stepped inside, a strange look on his face.

"Not now! Get out!" Curt snarled.

But Barry just opened the door even wider. "Listen," he only said quietly. Both Curt and Angelo turned towards the door. The crowd was still screaming for more. But the rhythmical "More! More!" calls had mingled with something else... It was only faint and distant, but it grew noticeably louder. Then it was easy to make out."Gimme Danger! Gimme Danger! Gimme Danger!..."

Barry looked at Curt who's expression had frozen and shook his head smiling. "This is amazing!" He stepped over to them and laughed. "I don't know what's going on out there, but they're really going crazy, Curt! You'd better get out there before this gets out of control! Get up! This is not the time to play diva! Pull yourself together, and give them what they want!"

At that moment, something simply snapped inside of Curt. He didn't even know what he was doing, he only knew that he'd had enough. Curt's hand flew up, and grabbed Barry by the throat. He rose to his feet and slammed his manager against the wall. His eyes were black and dangerous. "Read my lips, Barry," he said under his breath. "*You*... *are*... *fired*."

Barry's eyes widened. "Fired? You can't fire me in the middle of a tour!"

Curt angrily pushed him away, towards the door. Angelo, who had watched the scene silently arched a fine eyebrow, his voice thick with dry sarcasm. "Well, luv, obviously he just did."

Curt grabbed his leather jacket and was out the door in a flash. He needed to get out of this madhouse immediately. As he hurried for the back door he could still hear them screaming: "Gimme Danger! Gimme Danger! Gimme Danger!..." _I'm through. I'm through with this shit, for once and for all! I'm fucking through with all of these fucking compromises!_ He pulled the heavy iron door open and stormed out of the building - and froze in his steps.

***

The shock shot right through Brian. It was him! It was Curt. Staring at him just as unbelievingly. Looking him up and down as if he almost didn't recognize him in his ordinary jeans and shirt. Brian swallowed hard, feeling caught like a child stealing candy.  
God, this was awful. He didn't know what to say. His heart was beating madly. Same blue eyes, the long, bleached blond hair, a leather jacket. A little worn out, a little fucked up, but still handsome as hell. But Curt's eyes were cold, colder than he remembered.  
 _Baby's on fire, better throw her in the water..._ Long lost song, faint and distant... And the curtains were always blowing.  
 _We'll take over the world tomorrow._  
Anything you want.  
Bathing in pink champagne... Running wild along the beach...  
 _You can't run from the demons you carry inside._  
Then embrace it. Embrace the demon.  
But I can't. I can't.  
Those blue, dreamy eyes. Always the wild one, the untamed. Coming into his life like a thunderstorm, breaking all the barriers. Breaking every rule.  
 _I know what I want._  
Yeah? What's that?  
You.  
The curtains blew... catching fire... burning up in microseconds... gone.  
Ash rain falling all around them. And a cold, uneasy silence screaming at him, turning his insides out.

Brian blinked himself back into the here and how. _Say something. Say something, now!_

"Hey," he finally managed to squeeze out. He got up from the steps where he'd been sitting all the time. His ass felt frozen, but he hardly noticed. He could only stare at Curt.

No answer. Curt stared back at him, eyes wide with disbelief. For a long, horrible moment nothing happened. Then, eventually... "Hey."

Brian forced an uneasy smile, trying his best to act cool. "How's it going?"

Curt snorted, still staring at him, completely aghast. He laughed unbelievingly, his voice like gravel."How it's going? You fucking asshole!"

Brian swallowed hard. Then he smiled self-consciously. It was the same old Curt he'd known. He took a careful step closer. "Suppose I deserve that."

Curt buried his hands in his pockets without taking his eyes off the other. "God, Brian..." he finally said softly. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Brian, still smiling a little, shrugged. "I... don't know. I heard you were in London and I thought... I suppose I just wanted to see you."

"You wanted to see me? Why?"

"Why not?"

Curt didn't answer for a long moment. "I don't know, Brian. Maybe because last time we talked you told me to piss off?"

Brian stared at him and nodded. "I did, didn't I?"

Suddenly the backdoor opened and Curt's famous boyfriend peeked out, that male supermodel. "You alright, honey? You wanna go home?"

 

Brian stared at his feet uneasily, then glanced back up at Curt, meeting his gaze. "I'd better go."  
But he knew his eyes said something different. His eyes said how much he wanted to stay, overflowing with so many different emotions. He took a few steps backwards, still not able to take his eyes off Curt. "I... I'll see you later." _Say something, Curt, please! Don't let me go like this!_

Their eyes locked, and Brian's heart was beating madly. Briefly there was the ghost of a smile on lips that had once taken his breath away.

"Yeah," Curt finally replied quietly. "See you."

Brian smiled with relief, perhaps a little too brightly, and nodded. Then he turned around and slowly walked away.


	3. Walking Backwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tries to make amends.

_Gee, but it's hard_  
When one lowers one's guard  
To the vultures  
Now, me I regard it  
A torturous hardship  
That smolders  
Like a peppermint eaten away  
Will I fight? Will I swagger, or sway?  
\- Steve Harley  & Cockney Rebel, Tumbling Down

 

"So he brings me the suit - and it's khaki! Khaki of all things! So I say to him: 'I will not wear a khaki suit!' And he says: 'Then you'll have to go naked, chéri. Everything's khaki this season!' Khaki! Can you believe it? With my complexion! It's a crime!" Angelo shook his pretty head and fell onto the hotel bed beside Curt with a frustrated sigh.

Curt was staring at the ceiling. He answered absent-mindedly, "I'm sure you looked great," before taking a long drag on his cigarette.

Angelo raised his eyebrows. "No, I did _not_ look great! I looked awful! Awful!" He glanced at the handsome singer at his side and smiled, his anger simply melting away. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at Curt, resting his chin on his hands. "But you looked wonderful tonight, darling, as usual."

Curt frowned and blew out a cloud of smoke right into Angelo's face. "Angelo - shut up."

The model looked back at him and smiled. "Okay. I'm talking too much again, ain't I? Okay, I'll shut up now. We're having a quiet moment. That's fine. I won't say another word. - Unless you want me to of course."

Curt slightly shook his head and went back to staring at the ceiling. He had a lot to think about, and just wasn't in the mood for Angelo's ramblings. As great as it was to see him again, sometimes he drove him nuts with his ramblings. He still couldn't fully believe that he'd actually seen Brian tonight. He was surprisingly calm now, almost a little too calm, almost... peaceful. That feeling wasn't unusual after a show, he tried to tell himself. The performance had drained him off all energy. But still... Something had happened tonight and it had changed everything. That look in Brian's eyes right before he left... and his beautiful, beaming smile.

During the time they'd been together, Brian Slade must have worn a thousand masks. No matter what he did, Brian was a performer, and all too aware of the effect he had on others. Curt had never known a creature as restrained and calculating as him. But no matter how cold and heartless Brian could be at times, he'd always possessed the irresistible charm of a little boy wandering through life like Alice in fucking Wonderland.  
But tonight the mask had been dropped. Curt had seen a young man he'd once known. A beautiful boy, whose eyes spoke of a desperate need. All that Brian ever wanted was to be adored, worshiped - and loved. He was cruel, but so very fragile.

Angelo sighed, looking at him again as he carefully placed his hand on Curt's naked chest. "A penny for your thoughts." Curt didn't answer. Angelo grinned. "A dollar?"

Curt merely glanced at him and put out his cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed. The smoke tasted like shit, he didn't like the brand.

Angelo leaned over and placed a kiss on his chest, his lips hot and soft on the pale skin. When he looked up at Curt and found the other finally looking back at him, he thoughtfully tilted his head to the side. "That man on the street tonight - who was that? It wasn't who I think it was, was it?"

***

Brian roamed the streets for hours restlessly. He'd never even dared to fantasize about meeting Curt again, he had been too frightened of it. But somehow it had always been there in the back of his mind, the question: What would it be like...?  
Now he knew. Like anything concerning Curt it had been extremely intense. And the million contrary emotions inside of him all turned into a huge ball of confusion. Even now his heart still seemed to be beating a little faster. No matter how strange and surreal their accidental meeting had been, he only wished they could have talked a little longer. If Angelo hadn't shown up...  
Angelo. Curt's new man. Of course he'd read about him in the papers. It was silly being jealous now, and a bit late for that, too. Nevertheless, it stung deeply. _Why, sure. You were supposed to be pining away for me for the rest of your life, Curt. You weren't supposed to get over me. Ever. I broke you, don't you know?_  
Obviously, that had escaped Curt's notion. There'd been nothing broken about him at all. He was just as Brian remembered. He was passion. Now that he'd seen him again, Brian remembered it all too well. He could recall how amazing being with him had been - and how incredibly hard. It was exhausting being with someone completely out of control. And being someone who always had to be in control, Brian had become strangely obsessed. Because Curt was everything he knew he could never be. And still, somehow this untamable maverick had understood him better than anyone else. They'd shared a vision. They'd been as close as Brian was able to let anyone get. He remembered intimate moments when he'd been certain he'd never love another like that. And in a small, hidden corner of his heart, Curt was his. And would be for all time.

Looking into Curt's eyes tonight he had sensed that the connection was still there, that time hadn't been able to fully wash away their former closeness, no matter how hard it had tried. And somehow, miraculously, Curt was still angry at him. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Anything was better than the icy cold of not giving a shit, the place where he himself had been hiding for the past five years.  
Now that he'd seen Curt again a deep restlessness had taken hold of him. There was too much left unsaid between them. For the first time in his life Brian had felt the desperate need to explain his actions, to make Curt understand why he had done what he had done back then - but did he even have an explanation? His chance had passed, and no words had come. But would Curt even have listened?  
He had to see him again. He simply had to. But first, there was someone else he really needed to pay a visit to.

***

"So what you're gonna do now?" Angelo asked softly. "I mean, you fired Barry..." He grinned. "That look on his face... That alone was worth it!"

Curt laughed. Angelo never could stand Barry. "He's all about money," he used to say. "Look into his eyes, you can see the dollar bills. He doesn't give a shit about your music."

He'd been really good at his job though. It wasn't his fault Curt wasn't as publicity crazy as most stars. He hated to give interviews and photo shootings bored him too death. "I dunno. Think I'll cancel the tour, go back home."

"You wanna cancel the tour? Are you serious?"

Curt nodded. "There's a lot... I gotta think about. Things I gotta change."

Angelo paused, then he nodded, a serious expression on the beautiful face. "I'm one of those things, ain't I?"

Curt smiled a little and put his arm around the other, who leaned his head on his shoulder. He didn't have to say it, they both knew their time together was over. It had simply been convenient for both not to acknowledge it - until now. Tonight had changed it all. Seeing Brian had been a wake-up call, and his ears were still ringing. No more compromises.  
Maybe he should stop performing altogether. Start his own record label like he'd been wanting to do for ages. Produce fresh, new bands. He'd been living his life in public for way too long. It had been an artificial life. Curt didn't long for money or fame anymore. What he really wanted was to find out who he really was. To find a place where he belonged. And it seemed strangely fitting that it was Brian Slade of all people who had given him this idea.

***

_Two months later, Newark, New Jersey._

Brian was standing at the porch of a small, plain, typical suburban house, staring at the screen door. He had checked the address twice, it was the right house. He just couldn't fully believe Mandy would live in a place like this. A few times he raised his hand to knock, but always stopped at the last moment. He was nervous. Finally he pulled himself together and knocked.

No answer.

He waited for a moment, then knocked again. Apparently she wasn't home. Or didn't want to answer - a thing he would have perfectly understood. After all, he hadn't even bothered to talk to her in years. He sighed deeply and turned to leave.

"What do you want?" a grumpy voice suddenly said behind him. "Who are you?"

Slowly he turned around. Mandy was looking at him through the screen door, her front door opened just wide enough so she could peek out. Brian could only stare at his ex-wife for a long moment, unable to speak. She looked so different! Her hair had grown longer and she looked pale, tired, not wearing any make-up. Mandy stared back at him unbelievingly.

"Brian! Brian?"

He nodded and smiled self-consciously. "Hello Mands."

"What are you doing here?" she said quietly as she opened the screen door and stepped outside. Shivering in the unexpectedly cold spring air she rubbed her arms. "How did you even find me?"

Brian smirked. "Your lawyer."

She nodded. "I see. So you're back in the States?"

"I just got here a couple of days ago. Thought I'd stop by and say hello."

Mandy leaned against the doorframe, eyeing him suspiciously. "Okay, spill it. What do you really want, Brian? Money? 'Cause if you do, hey, I'm still waiting for your last check!"

He shook his head vehemently. "I don't need money, Mandy. I wanted to see how you're doing. Is that so hard to believe?"

She looked at him with a frown, her eyes narrowed. "As a matter of fact, it is. I don't hear from you for years and suddenly you show up on my doorstep all concerned about how I am?" She shook her head. "Come on, Brian. That's more than a little strange."

He smiled and looked at her from under his long eyelashes. "Well, I've never been quite like the rest."

A small smile appeared on her lips. "No, you really haven't." Then she stepped back and opened the door with a little sigh. "Well, come on in."

***

"So that's how I ended up living in Newark. - Are you still in touch with anyone from the old crew?" Mandy asked as she poured him another drink about half an hour later. They were lounging on the big couch in her living room. A scented candle was burning on the table, filling the room with warmth and a golden light that made Mandy look young and pretty... and vulnerable. Brian shook his head without taking his eyes off his ex-wife."No, not really. What about you?"

She shrugged, seeming to hesitate. "Well... No."

"No? Who're you still in touch with?"

She glanced at him uneasily. "I wouldn't really say 'in touch', but every now and then... Curt... and me talk on the phone. He calls me or I call him... once in a while."

Brian almost choked on his wine. "Curt calls you on the phone?"

"Yeah. Just to make sure I'm okay, you know."

"He calls you on the phone to make sure you're okay?" Curt and Mandy talked on the phone? Curt and Mandy cared about each other? What on earth had happened? They hadn't even talked to each other when they'd all still been together!

Mandy smiled amusedly. "I know that's hard to believe. But after you disappeared... We'd meet occasionally at a party or somewhere and one day... well, we just started talking. It helped to talk about it with someone who understood, who'd sort of... gone through the same. It's funny, but we realized we actually _had_ one thing in common after all: You."

Brian took a deep breath, still kind of in shock. "So... how is he?"

She glanced at her ex and took a sip of her drink. "Curt? He's fine. You heard about the canceled tour? But yeah, he's fine."

Brian chewed on his lower lip. "Does he ever... talk about me?"

Mandy put her glass back on the table and avoided his eyes. "The truth? He hasn't even mentioned you in years." She paused and looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm sorry."

Brian laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "No, you're not, you wicked thing," he said softly. "Why would you be? I'm the one who should be sorry. Only that... I'm not either."

Mandy leaned her head back in her neck and giggled. "It's good to see you haven't changed a bit, luv. Still the selfish, spoiled little brat prince you've always been!"

Brian bowed gracefully. "Spoiled little brat prince at your service, Ma'am."

They both laughed, and he suddenly thought that maybe time really healed all wounds. And if not all, at least some.  
But Mandy had her scars, and he could see them. She had that disillusioned, almost jaded look in her eyes when she sat like this, staring into the candle's flickering flame. She had grown a lot older in the past few years, or maybe she had simply grown up. But still she seemed like she had really come to terms with her past, and even meeting him again after all this time couldn't really shake her anymore. He had to admire her strength, the toughness with which she had walked on and taken her life back. She was a true survivor.

"I met him, Mandy," he eventually broke the silence. "Accidentally. He played a gig in London and... well, we met."

She looked up and arched an eyebrow. "No kidding. What'd he say?"

"Not much. He called me an asshole."

She grinned. "You know you deserved it." Then she shook her head. "Brian, Brian, Brian. What did you expect? That you could just walk back into his life and everything would be okay? Look at me - I'm talking to you, but it doesn't mean that you're forgiven."

He stared at her, feeling awkward all of a sudden. Of course she was right. But Mandy smiled and put her hand on his knee. "Hey, all of us made mistakes. You made yours and I made mine. We all made our choices."

"Yes, we did. And I'm only just beginning to realize how wrong some of mine were." He frowned deeply.

Mandy looked at him with a smile that held an unmistakable warmth. "Well, that's a start."


	4. A Time To Heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian finally knows what he wants. But what will Curt say to that?

_There's nothing left, all gone and run away_  
Maybe you'll tarry for a while  
It's just a test, a game for us to play  
Win or lose, it's hard to smile  
Resist, resist, it's from yourself you have to hide  
\- Steve Harley, Make Me Smile

 

It was a start. Yeah, everything seemed to work out just the way he wanted, for the first time in his life. Curt enjoyed a smoke as he strolled down the street on his way home from the meeting he'd had with Todd Thriver, the guy who was in charge of his finances. His plan to start his own small record label was beginning to take shape. Money wasn't an issue and he already had part of the equipment. He'd spent the last month trying to get the right people together, people who wanted the same thing, who were in it for the music. He'd talked to a lot of old friends. Steve, former guitarist with the Rats had said yes right away, telling him that he'd had the same thing in mind for years. The plan was to produce and support completely unknown bands but giving them full creative freedom instead of binding them with rip-off contracts. Curt was glad to have Steve aboard, but somehow he felt that something was still missing in his crew. What he was looking for was a strong, creative partner, someone truly inspiring who knew the business throughout like he did and had the guts to lead the record label with him, make it a success. And somehow Brian Slade sprung to mind whenever he thought of it.

It was crazy. Ever since they'd bumped into each other in London Curt caught himself thinking about him from time to time. Brian would have been exactly the right man for the job. They'd been a dream team when they'd first gotten together so many years ago. They were both so different and yet they were complementary in a beautiful way. Working with him had been like a creative firework, the most intense and inspirational time of his musical career.  
That was before Brian had begun to change and somehow lost himself in worshiping his own massive ego. Never realizing that he was slowly drowning Curt and everything they'd had. It hadn't entirely been his fault. Curt himself had become a disciple of the gods of fame at that time. But the gods demanded a tribute - and that tribute was your soul. From that moment on, life had become more and more of a compromise.  
Curt still remembered the night he'd finally woken up and seen the harsh and bitter truth. They'd had this terrible fight at the recording studio. He didn't even remember how it had started or who had started it. He'd probably been high. He'd spent a fucking vast portion of his life in a junkie daze. But once he'd started saying all these things, screaming it all out, there was no going back. He'd packed his bags and left the next morning. And that was that.

Thinking of Brian now he was shocked to notice that he seemed to be missing him a little. It would have been interesting to talk to him again, to find out what had become of him, what he had done and where he had been in the past five years. But what they once had been had been so intense, so captivating. How did you go from there to the here and now? How did you get rid of all that baggage?  
No, impossible. Brian could never be just a partner at work. Brian had been, and still was the big wonder and catastrophe of his life.

***

"Find out what it is you want, Brian," Mandy had once said to him. "That's always been your problem. You want this, then you want that. What you really need is... focus."  
He didn't know why it crossed his mind right after he'd awoken from a nightmare in the middle of the night. The pale semi-darkness of dawn gave the plain hotel room an eerie, surreal look. Brian sat up in bed, hugging his knees and tiredly staring into space. Why was it that everything seemed to expand at night? The room was too big, the bed was too big and everything was empty, so empty. _What you really need is... focus._  
She was absolutely right. What his life was missing was a center, a core to grow around. He'd always wanted, wanted, wanted, greedily piling it up all around him, making himself the center of so many other people's lives without ever realizing that he needed such a center himself.  
That had been the problem with him and Curt too, as much as it hurt to admit. He knew he'd truly loved him, but perhaps for the wrong reasons. He'd loved them all, because they were happy to let their lives revolve around him. Had no one ever noticed they were revolving around a feather in the wind?

Brian got up and walked over to the mini bar, glad for the small light inside the fridge that shone onto him while he had a look at his shrinking hoard of booze. Not satisfied with what he found he angrily slammed the door shut and walked over to the window. Staring at the flashing neon sign on the other side of the street he realized that he'd already grown accustomed to its unnerving constant flicker.  
Not satisfying.This whole place wasn't satisfying. Nothing was satisfying, there was always this deep restlessness inside of him. He had come here for one reason only and now he couldn't find the courage to go through with it.

The truth was that Brian knew what he wanted. He finally did. He'd known since the moment he'd seen Curt again, but it had taken a while to understand. He wanted Curt back. He missed him, oh so very badly. Sometimes when he awoke at night, like now, the memory was hauntingly fresh. Curt's warm, familiar presence at his side in bed, the scent of his skin, his even breathing. As Brian had shaken off the last remains of the numbness of five years, he'd uncovered an aching hollow deep inside.  
He missed Curt's eyes. The sound of his voice. The taste of his kisses. The mad rush of sex. But most of all the way he'd simply understood Brian, and what Brian had wanted to achieve. Better than anyone else. Curt had always known when Brian was lying. He'd loved him to the verge of insanity, so much it had frightened Brian at times and at the same time turned him on.  
How could he have rejected a love like that? How could he have been so stupid to let this amazing man walk out of his life? Looking back, he really couldn't believe it. Everyone else had gone on with their lives. Why was he the only one who found it so hard?  
But to look Curt in the eyes and tell him all of this... to admit that fame and fortune didn't mean a fucking thing in the end... That it was Curt he wanted, and that he'd finally realized that he wanted him back... How on earth was he supposed to do that? He could hear the angry voice shouting at him right out of his past, echoing through his mind, and winced. _"Fucking queen bitch space-god on some fucking high horse! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!"_

***

She pulled him close for a long, warm hug. "Oh, it's good to see you."

Curt smiled at Mandy as he pulled away. "It's good to see you too. How's everything? You look great!"

She laughed and shook her head. "Liar! I know I look terrible - I really need to get my hair cut if I could only find the time! Besides, no one looks their best in the winter."

He looked at her with a small grin and they started walking through the park side by side. "It's almost spring, Mandy."

She smiled thoughtfully, looking at the bare trees, and shivered in the cold. She could see little white clouds of breath coming out of her mouth as she spoke. "So, did anything interesting happen lately? Anything you wanna tell me?"

He glanced at her, a startled look in his eyes as if he knew exactly what she was aiming at. He didn't answer. She waited a few moments before speaking again, softly. "I saw him too, Curt. He's here. He came by my house."

Curt stopped abruptly. "Brian? In New York? What did he want?"

She smiled and slightly shook her head as they walked on. "I don't know. He never said it but I think he came to make amends."

"To make amends?" Curt shook his head unbelievingly. "Fuck. That's just like him, showing up after five fucking years just like nothing happened! Just like nothing ever happened!"

Mandy studied his face, mildly surprised by the emotional reaction. "Yeah, that's like him," she said quietly. After a long moment of silence she added, "My, but he looked good. He looked really good, don't you think? I wouldn't have expected... I mean, when I last saw him he was but a shadow of his former self and now..."

Curt merely shrugged. "So what? Mr. Brian fucking Slade is back. You wanna know the truth? I don't give a fuck."

Mandy looked at him for a long moment. "I don't believe you."

Curt avoided her eyes. "Do you still think of him?"

"Sometimes." She smiled. "And you do too."

He glanced at her and half-smiled. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

She put her hand on his arm and they stopped again, looking at each other. "Curt, tell me the truth. Do you still love him?"

He looked back at her with the dreamy eyes that always said so much more than he would admit. And right now he had this lost look in his eyes, so painfully honest she almost couldn't stand his gaze, even before he returned the question. "Do you?"

***

Brian stared at the faded photograph in his hand, a black and white picture of him and Curt in some corridor before a concert. They both stared defiantly at the photographer, annoyed because of the interruption. He still remembered. They had been talking... about being in the public eye all the time, about almost never having any privacy. And Curt had turned to look at him, a frown on his handsome face and a cigarette between his lips.  
"See what I mean?"

He'd nodded. "I know. Maybe we need a vacation."

But Curt had shook his head. "A vacation isn't gonna do, Brian. We come back and everything's the same."

He'd known that too, but it hadn't upset him as much as Curt. It was just one of the small nuisances that came along with stardom. "So what do you suggest?"

Curt had glanced around as if to make sure no one else could hear. "We could leave for good. Leave it all behind. Jerry, Bijoux, the whole fucking circus."

Brian had frowned, taken aback. "You mean... give all of this up? No, you can't mean that. You don't. You love it as much as I do. We both need it."

"I don't need a thing, Brian. Except for you."

He hadn't known what to answer, and his long silence was painful, even to him. "I'd still like to go on that vacation. Just the two of us. What do you say?"

Curt had taken a drag on his cigarette and looked away. "Sure. I'll go wherever you go, Brian."

***

_Two weeks later. Max's Kansas City, New York._

As Brian strolled into the legendary club he could feel his skin covering with goosebumps. It was late and he had already had a couple of beers in one of the shabby bars a few blocks away. He'd been on his way home when he'd passed the club. And here was another memory. _"I just wanted to say... I think your music is tops. Smashing, really - best of the lot."_ Alright, so coming in here had been a stupid idea. Brian knew it immediately as he looked around the dark, narrow club, feeling like a complete idiot. Of course Curt wasn't here, what had he expected? To find him sitting in that same corner where they'd met for the first time so many years ago? He sighed and decided to go home, but before that he desperately needed to take a leak.

The restroom smelled like a mixture of piss, beer and vomit. And as if that wasn't enough to almost make you throw up, Brian jumped at his reflection in the mirror above the wash-basin as he passed it. He was a ghost in the ghastly greenish neon light. He hardly even recognized himself. He unzipped his jeans, took a piss and walked back over to the wash-basin, staring into the mirror again while washing his hands. Somehow he was fascinated by the way he looked in this light, his eyes holograms, empty and emotionless. He stared at his own reflection for what seemed like minutes when suddenly the door opened and someone walked in, passing him without so much as a glance.  
He noticed that the water was still running and as he turned it off he looked at the man standing behind him with his back to him. He wore tight black leather trousers and a worn out leather jacket he knew he had seen before somewhere. Brian didn't really care to find out where and turned towards the door. But then he suddenly froze. He knew where he'd seen the jacket. London.

For a long moment he was simply unable to move. He could feel his whole body tensing as the man walked past him to wash his hands. His heart was beating madly, his stomach aflutter like never before in his life. No need to take a closer look, no need to see his face. He simply _knew_ that it was Curt. He could feel it in every fiber of his body. Slowly he turned around to face him.

Curt glanced at him coldly, about to walk past him - and stopped in his tracks. "Brian," he gasped, his eyes widening with surprise.

Brian's hands were sweating, and he didn't really trust his legs to be steady, so he leaned against the wall next to him. "Curt, hey." He hated how his voice cracked slightly when he spoke, and cleared his throat. "Funny... I had a feeling you'd be here. Well, just not _in here_."

Curt's lips curled in a half-smile. "Heard you were back in town, man."

"Yes, I am. Actually I was... looking for you." Now it was out.

Curt frowned in surprise. "Guess you found me."

"Apparently so."

They stared at each other. A moment of silence crawled by slowly, awkward and uneasy. Curt crossed his arms in front his chest, staring Brian down mercilessly. "Okay, what are you up to?"

Brian's skin was tingling madly in the other's electrifying presence. So familiar, so amazing. He just wanted to reach out and touch Curt. But he didn't dare to.  
"Me? Nothing, really." Again, he cleared his throat, suddenly aware of their surroundings. "Can we talk about this some place else?" _Like somewhere where I look less ugly and it smells a little better?_

Curt smiled flatly. "Sure. Where do you wanna go?"

Brian gazed into his eyes for a long moment, painfully aware that he was making it pretty damn obvious. But he had to, and he finally realized that. No more masks, no more games. It was high time for the truth. "I'll go wherever you go, Curt."

The deep silence that followed seemed to last for hours. Brian's heart was hammering in his chest. He kept on looking at Curt, hoping that somehow he'd understand the true meaning of the simple words. But Curt's expression gave nothing away.

"I don't know, Brian. Maybe you won't like it there," he finally replied quietly.

Brian smiled encouragingly. "I'm willing to take my chances."

Curt glanced at him and arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "You're putting me in the lead?"

He nodded. "I should've done that a long time ago." He'd moved closer to Curt without even noticing. Now the other's intense eyes were burning into his.

"Yeah, maybe you should have." Finally Curt smiled. He leaned in closer, and Brian held his breath. Instinctively his tongue darted out to wet his full lips. He felt like he was in a trance, his skin tingling with a deep and fiery craving. But Curt only grinned at him and moved back. He nodded towards the door. "Well, come on then."

Brian smiled to himself. _Tease. But fair enough._ If he really wanted to put Curt in the lead, he had to abide, no matter how desperately he was aching for the touch. He had to be patient, give Curt all the time he needed. Prove that he meant what he had said. But somehow he knew that he would. Everything that had once been there, everything he'd felt for Curt, it was alive inside of him, perhaps even stronger now than before.  
Curt pushed the restroom door open and led the way out of the moody club. Night was awaiting them outside, chilly and mysterious. Brian's eyes were fixed on Curt as they walked along in silence. He realized that he felt surprisingly good, being led into the unknown. No matter what was lying ahead, he wasn't scared anymore. This was how it was supposed to be, a second chance. He'd use that chance.

They glanced at each other. Brian's heart started beating faster when Curt's eyes lit up, involuntarily warming to him. The door had been opened. Time to step through.

Curt looked at him thoughtfully. "So, Brian. Ever thought about working for a record label?"

Brian met his gaze, his lips widening into a cautious smile. "Nothing too fancy, I reckon?"

Curt laughed softly. "Not one bit, Princess. Hard work, long hours, lousy pay."

Brian placed his hand at the small of Curt's back and left it there as they walked along. "In that case, I'm your man."

 

\- FIN -


End file.
